I picked this book up at the Walla Walla annual book fair which, I am sure, is called something else entirely, something involving the word Whitman. You can look it up; it’s held in the ballroom at the Marcus Whitman hotel which, until recently, was the the tallest building in Walla Walla. The book fair is an enjoyable event where you can pick up all sorts of quirky things. And, while you’re in town, you can pick up a little Rulo to round out your wine cellar.

Last year, I scored this book as well as another copy of Hellspark which, if you ask me what job I would have if I could do anything, that would be the job: Hellspark. Hands down, no questions asked, that’s the one. (If you’re hiring a Hellspark, ping me, let’s talk.) When I love a book as much as I love Hellspark, I buy extra copies any time I come across them in case I wear mine out or want to share a copy with a friend; so I picked that up.

Oh, and that Hitman Anders thing, that looks quirky, I’ll take that. And carry it home in my carry on bag, darn it. I think I bought some other things and left them in the storage unit with the things I’m taking from my mom’s estate if I ever buy an apartment big enough to hold 2 rocking chairs, a hope chest, and yet another set of cookware.

When I started reading Hitman Anders, I knew I had picked right: it was quirky from page 1. It quickly progressed to humorous. And then to rolling on the floor laughing.

Oh gosh, I thought about half way through, when I finish reading this, I have to send it to my friend, Brenda. She would love this. And her husband might, too. Brenda, who could recite the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy radio show, many years ago, would get it. And she was raised Lutheran. So she’d really get it. (Religion plays a big part of this book.)

Okay, I’ll give you a little of the plot and characters. The main character – not the title character – is a young man whose father is a loser and raises his son to be a loser before dying. While he’s in high school in a small town in Sweden, his mother marries a successful businessman and abandons him. So he gets a job at the local brothel that goes out of business and gets reinvented as a 1-star motel, the kind of place where people check in and never leave. His organizational and computer skills enable him to take on the manager’s job at the motel.

One of the people who moves into the motel is another loser, Hitman Anders. Often hired to break legs and arms of guys who welsh on debts with the wrong lenders, Anders discovers he has a heart after all, insisting, for example, that a father put down his infant before he breaks the guy’s arm so the baby doesn’t get hurt. He is helped to nurture his good heart by the third main character, a female priest who has left the church. Or perhaps the church has left her after one memorable service that she preached.

Somehow these three main characters end up on an epic roadtrip across Sweden which results in them buying a church (!) and inventing a religion that is very popular with the people, though not with the authorities. (A central tenant of the religion is drinking wine.) Pursued by the police, an officious bureaucrat, organized crime goons, and I-don’t-know-who-else, things start to break down in a big way.

Oh, this book is hilarious. I don’t know what it is about the Swedes, but boy do they have a hilarious, slapstick sense of humor. It must be all that brännvin and ABBA or something. Or maybe it’s their Viking heritage. If you ever read any of the writing duo Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s mysteries, you will quickly appreciate the Swedish sense of humor. (The closest American corollary would be Barney Miller, although the Swedish version is darker, more political, and – dare I say, yes! – even funnier.) As many times as I’ve read their books, I still fall out of bed laughing at some scenes (the no-knock police raid in The Bank Robbers, for example). I’ll get to Maj and Per, don’t worry.

But, Brenda, I’m sorry. By the time I got to the end of this book, I realized that I wasn’t ready to give it up. Don’t worry, I’ll just read it once or twice or maybe three times more, and then I’ll drop it off for you to enjoy…

…I think…